


Up Close

by angededesespoir



Series: Mercy76 Week [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (she nearly injures her hands from washing them.), F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Multi, blood mention, implied/referenced trauma, kinda? i guess?, self-harm like behaviour?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 14:17:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9903431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angededesespoir/pseuds/angededesespoir
Summary: Jack checks in with the newest member of the team after her first mission did not go well.





	

**Author's Note:**

> _(As always, I’m late! Anyway, let’s get this show on the road!)_  
>     
>  _Day 1- Firsts. I went with First Mission._
> 
> _I don’t understand this timeline, tbh, but I’m gonna say that Mercy is in her early 20s here._
> 
> _(Can also be read on[Tumblr](http://angededesespoir.tumblr.com/post/157636309785/up-close).)_

Her hands shake as she watches the blood swirl down the drain. She stands there, scrubbing until her hands burn from the rubbing and the heat of the water. 

She would stay there longer, but someone comes up, turns off the faucet. 

She knows who it is. She does not look him in the eye,

“You’re going to hurt yourself.” His voice is deep, grounding. She has heard it many times over news broadcasts. It’s still somewhat surreal to be this close to the source of it.

“I’m sorry your first mission had to be like this. I need to know- how are you doing, Dr. Ziegler? If you need to talk, I’m more than willing to listen.”

She knows that it’s only natural for someone to be unsettled, horrified, guilt-stricken by what just transpired. She also knows that she needs to pull herself together, lest anyone see her as weak and incompetent. 

She had witnessed death many times before this; had had patients die in her arms before; had felt their blood linger long after. She had handled it then, but better. She did not quite know why this time was different.

“Angela. Call me Angela, please, Strike-Commander. And...I'm fine, but I don’t think I’d like to talk about it. At least not yet.”

He nods, sympathetically. “That’s fine, Angela. You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that there are people here who will give you support if you need it.”

He shifts, a little uneasy. “The first mission’s always the hardest. It...doesn’t get easier with time. But you do get more used to it.” He looks up at her, and the look in his eyes, the sadness, the pain, the distance, gnaws at her heart.  
“But it’s still hard. Even the best missions are only successful because of sacrifice. It’s a difficult thing to accept, but, no matter how much you try, you can’t save everyone.”

“Commander...”

“Jack.” His voice is soft, his smile weak, but genuine. “You can call me, Jack. I’m just a soldier, like the rest of my team.” 

They both know this isn’t exactly true. She offers a smile in return, anyway.

“Jack.” She tests the name, and though she is used to it, of talking about him like everyone else has for years, it’s still odd, to be standing before that very man, addressing him so lightly. As if he were friend, instead of a figure the world had placed on a pedestal. “If you ever need to talk, I am also here. In either official or unofficial capacity. Whatever is needed. Or wanted.”

“I appreciate it. For now, though, duty calls. Unless,” he pauses, “You need to talk?”

She shakes her head. “No, sir. That’s not necessary.”

He smiles softly, nodding as he turns to leave. “Get some rest, then, Angela.”

“I will.”

She listens to the sound of boots fading down the hall. She continues to gaze down at the sink, lost in thought, in reflection.

Jack Morrison, she thinks, seems a little more like an ordinary man up close. She could see it in his eyes.

He’s just as affected as she is.


End file.
